


Captain Deadpool

by harperhug



Category: Captain America (Comics)
Genre: F/M, I wrote this in forty minutes, M/M, Welcome to a wonderful journey through Captain America fanfic tropes, and everyone's favorite douchecanoe Nick Spencer, and that asshole Tom Breevort, just like Isaac Perlmutter, this fic is a complete joke, which is forty minutes more than anyone at marvel bothered to think this idea through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperhug/pseuds/harperhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy birthday, Steve Rogers. We all know you're not a Nazi!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Deadpool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpacePunkStevie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpacePunkStevie/gifts).



> From this tumblr post: http://spacepunkstevie.tumblr.com/post/144984902235/the-only-way-ill-accept-the-hydracap-story-line

The ice melted with a hiss as the room filled with gas that Bucky would swear to his dying day did not come from him. Even after his core temperature returned to normal, it took him nearly twenty minutes to regain consciousness. But as soon as he came to, he sat bolt upright, just _knowing_ that something was wrong, for Steve’s puppy-dog eyes were nowhere in sight. Usually, being spared the look of someone whose smiles resembled the expressions most people would only make when they were being slowly disemboweled was a mercy, but this time, it was replaced by a grimmer face than T’Challa had ever made toward Bucky.

He rolled his shoulders back and forward, reacclimating his body to movement, before moving on to bend his knee. “How did he d—” the impossible word stuck in his throat.

“He is not dead, Mr. Barnes,” T’Challa was not nearly as reassuring as he was probably trying to be. “Although, I fear that if he were fully aware, he would attempt to be.”

Bucky’s self-attempted physical therapy wasn’t working—his muscles had frozen him into position. Even during his worst nights in Bucharest, when he woke up and retched from dreams where he did terrible, bloody things to Steve, he had never imagined anything like this. No, the idea that Steve could possibly be forced to commit atrocities had been so abhorrent that even his nightmares had rejected them.

But if T’Challa, who had spent several days planning how to brutally murder Bucky, was ready to help Steve immediately, then surely it couldn’t be so bad. Bucky tossed off his blankets, only to quickly pull them back over himself when T’Challa recoiled.

“It’s like having a mirror to the sun in here,” T’Challa muttered. “I’m going to go blind if I haven’t already.”

“I haven’t seen sunlight in…how long?” Bucky realized he didn’t know how much time had passed.

“Two years, Mr. Barnes. I suggest you put on some clothes. Or a spray tan. Perhaps your American presidential candidate would be willing to lend you some? He seems to have an excess of it.”

Bucky opened his mouth to ask about this presidential candidate, but decided he didn’t want to know. “So where is Steve?” he asked instead.

“Sam Wilson lost contact with him on May 26.”

Bucky frowned. “Then how do you know that he’s been brainwashed?”

“I recently had a dream,” T’Challa answered. “A man, I believe his name was Tom Breevort, came up to me holding a triangular white cap and robe. Another man stopped him and pointed to Steve Rogers. He called himself Nick Spencer, and together he and Tom Breevort walked toward Mr. Rogers holding a HYDRA uniform.”

Bucky’s first instinct was to laugh derisively, but if Steve had been missing for a month, then he had to do something regardless of how T’Challa came by his information. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Do you know how I could talk to Sam?”

“Samuel Wilson is in my…personal quarters,” T’Challa’s overly-formal tone made Bucky wish he had never asked. “I may, however, be able to help you find another solution.”

“Whatever you think will help,” Bucky acquiesced.

T’Challa took a step back, not into physical space, but as if he were transcending space itself. He reached out into the same space-not-space and pulled out a man in red, who was hurriedly tugging down an equally-red mask over his scarred face. He turned around, grumbling until he saw Bucky and his jaw dropped visibly despite the mask.

“Holy shit, Bucky Barnes?” the red mad ran forward and shook Bucky’s hand like Scott had when he met Steve. “You’re my favourite Howling Commando,” he said enthusiastically. Unlike Scott, he seemed to have no intentions of stopping.

“Still?” Bucky frowned. “Kid, you need to screw your head on straight if the _Winter Soldier_ is your favourite Commando.”

“None of the other Commandos ever jumped on my sedan and murder-strutted toward an overturned bus,” the red man finally let go of Bucky’s hand to salute him. “Name’s Deadpool. You’re on my cheat list.”

“Cheat list?”

“You know, the list of people I can fuck without my girlfriend getting mad at me. If you could convince Captain Rogers to, uh, roger her, I’ll steal however much money you want me to.”

“That is not why we are here,” T’Challa interrupted, clearly irritated. “Captain Rogers is missing.”

Deadpool gave a melodramatic gasp. “I can’t have my dream orgy without Captain America. Come on, Bucky! We need to save your boyfriend!” He leaned close to Bucky like he was waiting for something. Whatever it was, Bucky must have been startled enough to give it to him, because Deadpool squealed in delight and pulled Bucky forward through not-space. Things whizzed by like pages from a book, until they were standing in front of Steve and a bound Erik Selvig.

“Steve,” Bucky’s knees buckled, and he blamed it on the strange journey to this place. “Steve, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Hail HYDRA,” Steve said to Selvig.

Bucky blinked several times, but his vision didn’t waver. It really was Steve hailing HYDRA. He took a few steps forward until he was standing next to what used to be Steve’s good side. “What con are we pulling?” he asked quietly.

“There’s no con,” Steve answered. “I’ve always been HYDRA. Why do you think I fought against them so many years?”

Deadpool turned Steve’s head to look at him closely and let out another melodramatic gasp. “YOUR EYES ARE BLUE!” he screamed. “BUCKY BEAR, HE’S BEEN POSSESSED!”

“His eyes are supposed to be that colour,” Bucky grumbled, checking Steve’s eyes just in case. “Wait, did you just call me a bear?”

Deadpool launched into the long tale of adventures he used to have with a stuffed bear dressed to look like Bucky. The man himself tuned him out to better focus on Steve. Maybe all these years of seeing HYDRA’s taint on the world finally pushed him off the deep end.

“Steve,” Bucky put one of his hands on Steve’s cheek tenderly. “Steve, no.”

Steve ripped Bucky’s hand off. “Steve yes!”

Okay, now Bucky was pissed. “That’s only funny,” he breathed heavily, trying to keep his temper in check and his tone even, “when you’re a good guy doing reckless things and not a NAZI doing NAZI THINGS!” Okay, so that was a fail on the checked temper and even tone.

A muscle twitched over Steve’s eye and he held up his fists, ready to fight. Bucky would’ve done the same if Deadpool hadn’t reached forward and dragged him back, through not-space with all of its page-like scenery, until they were back in T’Challa’s room, where he and Sam Wilson were wearing considerably fewer clothes than they had been a minute ago.

After the screaming subsided and Bucky’s jaw was no longer too swollen to speak, he turned to Deadpool. “How did you take us back?” he asked.

Deadpool cracked his last rib back into place. “I can break the fourth wall. You know, that thing that keeps us from knowing where the writers live?”

He glares at me, and I shriek.

“Writers? So, Steve _is_ being mind-controlled?” Bucky asked once I come back with a considerably lighter bladder.

“Kind of,” Deadpool leaned forward. “Uh, do the names Isaac Perlmutter and Nick Spencer mean anything to you?”

Bucky remembered T’Challa’s dream and leapt to his feet before remembering that his ankle was still broken.

Deadpool knocks on my computer screen. “Hey, you in the lacy red dress, you didn’t write Bucky getting his ankle broken, so just knock it off, alright?”

Um…

Bucky remembered T’Challa’s dream and leapt to his feet in excitement?

Deadpool nods. “Better.”

“Okay, so we just have to find Nick Spencer, right?” Bucky asked.

“Kiiiiiiiiiiiiind of,” Deadpool said evasively before groaning. “Nick Spencer lives in a very precise Captain America universe. We’re going to have to cross a couple of others to get there.”

“You literally just stuck your head through the wall and saw him,” Bucky accused.

“Yeah, because I have access to this person,” Deadpool knocks on my computer screen again. This time it cracks. STOP IT ASSHOLE!

“Sorry,” Deadpool whispers.

“Okay, there are different Captain America universes, great,” Bucky muttered. “Okay, let’s go. The sooner we’re done the sooner Steve can get this additional guilt piled on top of the mountain of his other unresolved guilt issues.”

“Yay!” Deadpool squealed and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “You can be my fourth wall buddy!” he actually skipped through the pages now while Bucky tried to focus. Any one of the people flying by could be Nick Spence—was that Steve in a stripper’s outfit?

“Oh, yeah, that’s the Nomad universe,” Deadpool said.

“When we’re done, can you drop me off there for a bit,” Bucky asked distractedly, eyes focused on Nomad’s chest.

“Okay, but we have to pick up my Vanessa first.”

Bucky got distracted again when they left what Deadpool called Kid!Fic, attempting to kidnap all of the little Steves. Steve’s rambunctiousness worked in their favour for once, each one of them wriggling out while Bucky got distracted by the next one, until finally I tap on the computer screen and tell them to get a move on because I have no idea how else to get them out of there.

It wasn’t until they got to HYDRA Trash Party that Deadpool became distracted, following a Bucky around and making grabby hands at the stuffed bear he held. Bucky kicked Deadpool in the groin, which made the Bucky holding the bear take his thumb out of his mouth and laugh. So, of course, the Bucky not holding the bear did it again. This time, when the other Bucky laughed, he fell down and nudged open another door. From it, the smell of Axe body spray was so pungent, Bucky dragged Deadpool up and begged him to take them somewhere else.

Earth 616 and Earth 199999 passed by smoothly. Someone Bucky had never seen before tried to hand him a computer-generated guitar when they passed by Avengers Academy. But the strangest encounter of all had to be when an undercover Bucky wearing a nametag that said Sebastian Stan tried to chase Bucky down, but got distracted by a kitten walking by.

Finally, they reached a door that said Nick Spencer.

“Thank you, Deadpool,” Bucky said sincerely.

“No probs. Just try to convince Captain Rogers to sleep with my wife, okay? I need to see that ass get pegged.”

Bucky was too afraid to get a boner to let the conversation continue, but just as he was about to pull the door open, he realized the problem and let his head hit the door with a groan.

“What’s wrong now?” Deadpool asked, annoyed.

Bucky tried to look as miserable as he could. “I forgot to bring any weapons.”

Deadpool taps on my computer screen again, the bastard. You guys better be grateful!

Bucky opened the door so he and Deadpool could charge through with swords made of fire.

* * *

 Bucky wasn’t sure at what point Sam Wilson and T’Challa had also hopped into this bed, but he had gotten the chance to lick strawberry, blue raspberry, and vanilla ice cream off Steve so who cared?


End file.
